THE DOGWOOD TREE across the street glowed as the sun set behind it. Jeremey and I sat silently on the porch, watching the fire go out on the horizon as we filled the small enclosure with smoke. Wind beat against the fine mesh screens, screaming and whistling through the tiny cracks forming around the edges.

The day had passed slowly but quietly. I'd spent the majority of it consuming pain killers of various varieties and changing the bandage covering the wound on my ankle every so often. The weed we were smoking now was the final ingredient in the cocktail. My leg still pulsed in pain, but at least the fog in my mind helped to keep it manageable.

I inhaled a puff and held my breath, letting the smoke take effect as I passed to Jeremey. He took one more hit before setting the spent spliff down in the ash tray in front of himself.

I let out my breath, coughing as smoke spewed out of my mouth. "So who do you think she is?" I finally asked. We hadn't spoken about the girl all day. We hadn't spoken about much of anything since that morning, to be honest. "Where do you think she came from?"

Jeremey rocked back in the chair, exhaling heavily and running his hands over his denim pants. He shook his head. "No clue."

"She had some sort of accent." I leaned forward, absently picking at the torn fabric of my jeans. "I didn't recognize it."

"I noticed that too. It might have been European, but I don't know. I'd never heard it before."

The sky turned red. Only a sliver of sun remained, like a squinting eye peering out from beyond the horizon.

"What about the baby," I asked lowly. "Do you think it's..."

"Joshua's?" Jeremey completed my sentence for me. "That's my only guess."

"Why..." I began. The temperature dropped as twilight set, casting the world in grey. My hands had gone numb a half hour ago, and I shivered as the cold wore in. "Why is he keeping her down in the basement like that?"

Jeremey shook his head. "I don't know if I want to know, but I guess we'll find out Tuesday."

A silence fell over us. I wanted to bring up my dreams—see if Jeremey had any ideas about those—but I didn't know how to approach the subject. I wasn't sure how to explain them. They chilled me to think about—the fact that I had dreamed about her before I'd even met her—and also the fact that she recognized me too. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if maybe I'd met her that night when Joshua kidnapped me, and I just didn't remember it. I wondered if that was how she recognized me.

"What time is it?" I finally asked instead.

Jeremey took out his phone and checked the screen. "Eight forty five."

"I've got to get to work."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and stared at me. "Are you serious?"

"I didn't go yesterday. I can't call in again." I slowly pushed myself to my feet. Pain shot through my ankle and I winced, leaning on my other leg heavily to compensate.

"You look like hell," Jeremey told me.

"I'm fine," I lied.

"Just call in again."

I knew he was right. I was hurting, and I really should have called in, but I felt like I needed to prove myself. Like somehow going to work would show him that I was all right. Like somehow, it would make me be all right. "I'm fine," I finally repeated myself.

He sighed. "Whatever." His gaze turned away as I limped across the porch.

"So what do we do until Tuesday?" I asked, my hand resting on the cool metal door handle.

Jeremey shrugged, not even looking at me. "I don't know. I guess normal stuff."

"Shouldn't we do something to get ready?"

"Like what?" he asked calmly.

"Something about the wind."

Jeremey turned to me slowly, and then a huge grin spread across his face. "What, you wanna fly a kite or something?"

• • •

It was going on eleven. My leg pulsed in pain and my eyes glazed over as I stared at the magazine lying open on the counter in front of me. I nibbled at a Pop Tart I'd brought to work but found myself unable to eat more than a few bites. I set my half-finished excuse for a meal down in front of me. I needed to smoke.

I checked my back pocket for my cigarettes as I stood up and scooted out from behind the counter. As I limped past the sunglasses display, I glanced out the front window of the shop.

That was when I saw it—the beige pickup parked in front of the pumps.

My heart pounded against my rib cage with a single, heavy thud. It echoed through the entire shop, loud and time-stopping. Blood pulsed through my temples. What was he doing here?

He was looking for me—that was the obvious answer. Terror consumed me, and my vision went dark around the edges, slowly fading until everything turned black. Stars flashed like tiny lightning bugs swarming in front of me. My head was light. Everything was spinning.

The door to the shop wasn't locked.

Pulling myself out of the haze, I limped towards it, glancing out the window with every other step to make sure the truck hadn't moved. Each step seemed slower than the last, like I was trudging through mud. Finally, I reached the door. I exhaled heavily as I placed my hand on the lock, and I stared out into the night. The beige pick-up stood still—stalled in the lot—and there, sitting in the driver's side of the vehicle was Joshua.

Our eyes met.

I froze. Time slowed. My eyes stretched wide, and my stomach dropped out from under me. My entire body shook, and my breath condensed in front of me like an icy fog. I tore my gaze away from his, and my hand clicked the door over to lock. I shifted my fingers down to the deadbolt, and I flipped that one too. A heavy clunk echoed through the shop.

Suddenly, sharp pain shot through my leg. I hadn't realized I'd been placing so much weight on it. With a whimper, I sunk to the floor. I sat with my back to the door and pulled my knees up to my chest, breathing in and out quickly and heavily. I hid my head between my legs and shivered as I tried to catch my breath. Time froze around me. Nausea swirled in my stomach and throat. I felt like I was sinking, like I was falling.

I felt helpless and alone.

I wasn't sure how long I spent paralyzed in terror on the floor of the gas station, my back to the door and praying it didn't open, but it was too long.

Way too long.

When I finally felt some semblance of normal again, my breath returning and the nausea receding, I slowly pulled myself to my feet on shaking legs. I leaned my shoulder against the door for balance and looked out the shop front window.

The truck was gone. The gas station was empty.

A stray piece of road trash blew through the lot like a tumble weed. The plastic shopping bag clung to one of the pumps for a second before the wind carried it away.

The entire night stood silent and still. Even my mind froze, unable to begin contemplating what Joshua had been doing at the gas station that night if it wasn't going after me. The only indication that time hadn't stopped completely was the wind beating against the shop and tugging at the green and blue flags outside, trying to tear them off the wires and spread them across town.

And that's when I heard them.

Sirens.